


Something About the Sea, Something About Pearls

by FifthLegionFulminata, peepo



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe, M/M, Mental Illness, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 12:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13834299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifthLegionFulminata/pseuds/FifthLegionFulminata, https://archiveofourown.org/users/peepo/pseuds/peepo
Summary: Eiffel is a magical being from the sea called a Selkie, Hilbert is a Goddard employee with severe depression and suicidal ideation.Due to a magical technicality, Hilbert and Eiffel are wedded in the eye of Selkie Law, but when Eiffel comes to meet his new husband, Hilbert is not entirely pleased.The wonderful Fulmi wrote the first 5000 words, Sage wrote the last 2000 words





	Something About the Sea, Something About Pearls

**Author's Note:**

> Sage and Fulmi did a collab!!!! It was a lot of fun!  
> We ran into a problem where Fulmi naturally writes in past tense, and Sage tends to naturally write in present tense! He kept having to go back on what he'd written, and re-write it in past tense lol. If you spot any continuity issues with tenses, please tell us so Sage can fix them, thanks!

It was when he was lost in thought and walking home from his lab, frustrated at his inability to provide the results he knew he could produce, that he stepped on it. It being a beautiful, honestly breathtaking, fur cloak. With regret, and a little shame, he picked it off the ground and brushed off the mud and dust that had accumulated from his absent-minded mistake. He was struck by how soft it was, the entire cloak made of a soft silvery-brown fur that was _heavy_ in his hands but not unpleasantly so, and for a moment he stared at it and ran his hand over it while holding it in his arms before realizing that perhaps he should look for its owner. He was easy to find, a frantic and slightly furious man with anxiety carved into his face, until the second he saw the cloak in Hilbert’s hands and he stopped in his tracks, his face flushing. Hilbert watched as he stepped carefully around the sea of people on the sidewalk and nervously approached him, glancing between the cloak and Hilbert’s slight scowl.

“Excuse me, but, um, that’s mine?” The man’s voice was just as stunning as he was, Hilbert’s mouth curving into a full-blown frown, and he watched the man yank back the hand he had tentatively reached out to take it back with anxiety all over his lovely face.

Suddenly aware of how he must look, glaring at this man who just wanted his cloak back, Hilbert made a noise of frustration and thrust it into his arms. “Sorry. Here.” Without meeting his eyes again he turned and stalked away, mentally berating himself for getting so incredibly nervous in front of a total, albeit beautiful, stranger.

 

Walking into his apartment was like stepping over his grave, a sinking feeling coming over him so strong that it made his shoulders slump and his movements sluggish. Half-heartedly closing the door behind him he made a beeline from the door to his balcony. Sitting heavily on the concrete, he slid his legs between the railing that was supposed to discourage falling. He dug in his pocket for a crumpled carton of cigarettes and a lighter, putting a battered cigarette to his lips and lighting it, inhaling deeply, before putting the carton away. As he smoked he stared at the ground twelve stories below him and daydreamed about when he would finally stop trying to make living work and jump. Half-way through his cigarette he remembered the humiliating interaction with the gorgeous man from earlier and felt oddly bolstered, rationalizing that he wouldn’t have to worry about embarrassing himself like that again if he died. Right? He snuffed out his cigarette and stood.

Bracing his knee against the top of the railing he prepared to leverage himself over just as a knocking sounded from his front door, startling him. They must have been trying for a while because it sounded almost impatient, the harsh banging of someone who was positive there was someone home but receiving no answer. The shock of having someone, anyone, knocking at his door was enough to pull him away from the railing, walking across the cold expanse of his sparse living room and opening it in the middle of the next set of knocks. He blinked in surprise when a hand suddenly rapped against his sternum, quickly yanking away in shock as the beautiful man from earlier babbled out an apology, his face flushing prettily.

“Oh- shit- I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying any attention, really, I’m so sorry!” Hilbert flinched and stepped back when the man tried to anxiously fuss over where he hit him, the light touch of his hand unbearable.

“It is fine. Simple mistake. What do you want.” The man gaped at him before launching into what seemed to be a heartfelt description of his gratitude, stammering and blushing while occasionally making eye contact with Hilbert to see his reactions to his words. Hilbert heard him only faintly, his voice distorted like he was deep underwater, and his mind seemed to be in a fog. The man stopped talking abruptly, looking at him with expectation and he realized he was waiting for a response.

He registered horror on his face when he finally spoke, his brutal lack of emotion unexpected. “That is… nice. I was in the middle of killing myself, so if you could leave? Thank you.” The fog was so thick that he didn’t even feel himself turn away until a hand gripped his upper arm with shocking strength, yanking him back. He blinked at the man in a daze and saw something he wasn’t expecting at all, his face a mask of complete despair.

The man shook him a little, reaching up to gently hold either side of his face to bring his attention fully to him. “No, I will not _leave,_ we’re husbands and we need to fix this. Let’s talk, okay, we’ll sit together and figure out what we need to do.” The man’s expression softened to glowing adoration and Hilbert recoiled.

“What- you are joking. We are not _married,_ I do not even _know_ you! Let-let go of me-” A stab of regret pinned him in place as the man’s demeanor crumpled, looking more lost that he ever should as his hands fell back to his sides.

“But, I just told you, this is what we do, I-I’m not a human, we don’t- We don’t work like people, you know that! You live in this city and see Others every day, you can’t tell me that you don’t know that! I just told you that I was a Selkie, you _married me_ when you gave me back my coat! I-I just told you that…” The man looked up hopefully when Hilbert finally spoke in a tone of obvious discomfort, almost as if he was pleading with him to reconsider.

“You seem like nice. . . Sealboy. . . But you do not want to marry me, I know that for certain-”

The man cut him off, looking outraged. “The hell I don’t! I love you, even if you don’t believe me! I do, I really, seriously, honestly do, and I’ll wait as long as I have to until you realize that but don’t ever tell me how I feel or what I want or don’t want to do!” They both looked at the other in shock at his outburst, Hilbert putting a supportive hand against his door frame while he tried to think of how to respond. It felt as if the entire world was shifting to the left, tilting slowly on it’s way to upside-down and gaining momentum each time this strange man spoke. His mouth worked before he could formulate a neutral but cutting reparte that would send the man away from him forever.

“I-I need time to- give me time to think. I am going to sleep now, alright?” He stopped him from speaking with a hand, his voice a little chagrined. “Will not jump off balcony, will only sleep. Please, go home.” The man thought it over before nodding. He lurched forward a moment, before leaning back again, as if second-guessing whatever it was he was about to do. Briefly, he looked at Hilbert, uncertainty across his beautiful face, before seeming to come to a decision. He opened his arms, and before Hilbert could even register what was happening, Hilbert was being wrapped up in a tight hug by the man. Too shocked to move, Hilbert simply stood there, arms pinned to his sides. The selkie was warm, and smelled like the ocean, and was causing all sorts of creatures to riot inside Hilbert’s stomach as his blood was overtaken with fluttering butterflies. All too soon, the hug ended. A sheepish look on the man’s face, he backed up, away from Hilbert, looking to the floor.

“So, um, okay. I guess I’ll go? Bye?”

This. . . Seal creature Selkie disguised as a man, was all too sweet and kind for anything Hilbert had to offer.

“Goodbye.” Hilbert said, voice gravelly and curt, as he closed the door behind him as he retreated back into his apartment.

 

Hilbert drank until he couldn’t feel anything at all, sleeping fully dressed and waking with a headache and only vague memories of the day before. It all came crashing back when he opened the door and was greeted with the sight of the man patiently leaning against the wall opposite his front door. It was clear he had been waiting for a while, completely unaffected by the icy cold rain that had thoroughly soaked his clothes and plastered it to his skin. Even though he had to have been freezing his eyes lit up the moment he saw Hilbert, straightening and making a motion towards him before aborting it, looking at himself in frustration. During his moment of distraction Hilbert stepped back into his entryway and returned, throwing a jacket at him, and rather than acknowledge the look of adoration his moment of weakness prompted from the man he walked past him instead, jamming his hands into his coat pockets and barely registering the cold rain that slipped down the collar of his shirt.

He glanced down when a shoulder brushed against his, the man grinning at him as he fell into step beside him, and he felt uneasy, returning his attention to the wet sidewalk. The man wasn’t discouraged by his silence, rambling about something he couldn’t understand completely, a movie he had watched recently? Or perhaps a book. He didn’t have energy to focus on individual words and sounds. His voice was pleasant to listen to, regardless, and the walk to work flew by even if he wouldn’t have been able to answer a single question about what the man had been talking about. The lack of attentiveness, or rather, his inability to focus, left as soon as he remembered where he is, and what he was supposed to be doing. Thankfully, his body knew where to go. He was standing in front of the Goddard Futuristics Biotech Division, his faceless colleagues filing through the doors. There was a flicker of regret on the Selkie man’s face when Hilbert finally spoke.

“I have to go to work, so if you will excuse-”

“Wait!” The man stopped him, pulling a face of innocence even though it was clear he was stalling for time, his hands wringing the hem of the jacket Hilbert had given him. “I-I never got your name? I’m Eiffel?” Something like endearment flourished inside Hilbert at the way he phrased his introduction as a question, as if he wasn’t sure of his own name, Hilbert couldn’t help but curl the corner of his mouth up in a little smile.

“Alexander Hilbert.”

Eiffel’s face lit up and all signs of anxiety at him leaving vanished, his hands stilling as he grinned at him. “That's a great name! Have a good day at work, Alexander.”

Uneasy again, Hilbert’s miniscule smile dropped and he quickly walked away, feeling eyes on his back long after he began his new experiment cycle.  
  
  
  
Some time after 3 am he came out of the intense focus that had kept him from feeling the passage of time and exhaustion crept in, his eyes burning from reading all night. He estimated he had been working for about 21 hours, standing with a sigh and the creak of stiff joints before retrieving his coat and making a cursory check on his lab rats. Once satisfied that they were, in fact, still alive, he left and froze on the steps leading into the building when a figure approached him from the dim light of a false sunrise. A feeling of relief mingled with that ever-present unease he felt around Eiffel once the figure was close enough for him to recognize who it was, and he scowled hard.

“Is 3 a.m.. Why are you here.”

Eiffel looked a little sheepish, not quite meeting his eyes. “I was, um, _not_ waiting for you? Total- total coincidence. Haha.” Hilbert made a noncommittal noise instead of answering to his obviously weak excuse for being here, skirting around him and walking back to his apartment. The light taps of Eiffel’s feet as he jogged catch up, taken by surprise by his abrupt departure, clued Hilbert in to his presence. When he was sure Eiffel wasn’t looking he spared him a glance and scowled at the worry on his face.

“Aren’t you exhausted? You could not have known when I would be leaving, so I presume you have been out all night waiting?” Eiffel’s expression changed to guilty embarrassment as Hilbert nailed it on the head, his scowl deepening as he stopped in front of his apartment door.

He inserted and turned the key, but did not move to open the door. “You are stupid, could have been mugged. Is not good area and you look like a target has been painted on your face. Go home. You can stalk me after you get some sleep, I am off today.”

He felt Eiffel’s arms wrap around his middle, and his body press against his back, in a tight, unexpected hug. His pulse sped up and his stomach lurched and he wanted to bad to turn around and bury his head in Eiffel’s chest and make this moment last forever. But, he stiffened instead, going stone-still. He shouldn’t fan this fire, as much as he wanted to. Eiffel was much too sweet for him, Eiffel deserved better.

Eiffel nuzzled his head into the back of Hilbert’s shoulder and sighed happily. The thought that this lovely boy seemed to _genuinely enjoy_ Hilbert’s company made Hilbert feel absolutely sick to his stomach. He felt like he was lying to Eiffel. He scowled at him over his shoulder and felt his hands shake a little when Eiffel looked up and smiled at him. “Go away.” Unpeeling himself from Eiffel he letting himself into his apartment, closing the door in his face and locking it, just to be sure. Pressing his back to the door, he slid down to sit on the floor, hiding his face in his hands and wondering what on Earth he’s going to do.

The decision to drink his emotions away was an easy one, like always, and rather than go to bed he lounged on his couch with his feet propped on the coffee table as he drank straight from the bottle. It was only after his hands stopped shaking from nervousness and instead shook from an inability to keep them steady that he let himself fall asleep.  
  
  
  
Hilbert woke up sometime in the afternoon, with a headache and foul taste in his mouth. Leveraging himself off the couch with an unsteady sway he stumbled to his bathroom, stripping off his clothes that smelled like booze and disinfectant and showering under the coldest water he could coax from the pipes, sobering quickly as he tried to keep his teeth from chattering. Brushing his teeth also served to bring him to a passable level of alertness, no longer swaying quite so heavily when he walked to his bedroom, dripping water steadily onto the floor, and dug around for something to wear. He settled on jeans and a button-up, scowling at the little itch of pain that comes when the rough fabric scraped against his thighs. Throwing on a plain undershirt he shrugged on the button-up, unwilling to actually wear it as a shirt and instead letting it hang limply off his frame. Socks and his usual bright red high-top sneakers went on last, lacing them sloppily before running an already-exhausted hand through still-wet hair and standing. He didn’t have to open the door. In all likelihood, Eiffel had finally given up and he wouldn’t be outside when he opened it. This was probably just a joke to him, anyway, why else would he be so determined, so relentlessly happy even when he was treated with disinterest. There would be no one on the other side of the door. He didn’t have to open it.

Eiffel was already there, patiently waiting, and Hilbert scowled to hide his crushing relief at the sight of him. “Did you sleep okay?” As ever, Eiffel seemed genuinely interested in his answer.

“Yes.” Stepping around him as he spoke, Hilbert began walking in a direction he chose at random. He didn’t have to go to work today, so he had nothing at all to do except walk and listen to Eiffel chatter.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask last night, or, well, this morning, but how was work?”

He could see Eiffel’s face in his peripheral vision and tightened his hands in his pockets at the delighted smile on it when he answered. “Made decent progress, lab rats are showing improvement- have yet to die.”

Clearly unwilling to lose this opportunity, Eiffel overwhelmed him with questions. “Lab rats? Are they cute? Did you name them? What do you do, exactly, you’ve never said. Do you like your job? What’s your-”

Hilbert cut him off with a small, but good-natured frown. “Cannot answer so many questions at once, patience. My rats are average, I try not to get attached by naming them. I am a geneticist, I work with infectious diseases, and if you can like such a thing then yes, I do.” He turned his attention back to the sidewalk, resisting the urge to show his discomfort under Eiffel’s completely enamoured gaze.

Eiffel started back up again, undeterred. “Well, I think that's super cool. Do you watch any movies? I love ‘em, it’s how they teach us a lot of things back home in the sea. Selkies don’t really interact like people? Like, we talk n’ stuff but some of us get territorial and suuuuper aggressive, so you have to be careful. For the most part though we’re pretty relaxed. Oh, what’s that!” Distracted by a shop with blown-glass ornaments in the window, Eiffel grabbed him by the forearm and gently pulled him in it’s direction, looking at him pleadingly.

Without a word Hilbert huffed a little, exasperated, and let himself be pulled along as Eiffel beamed and chattered about how his little sister would love the dolphin in the window. Twenty minutes later Eiffel had bought nearly everything he set his eyes on, obviously delighted by the little glass sea animals on display. Once Eiffel paid in the only legal tender Selkies carry, pearls, however, the shop owner was equally as delighted and took them both to her private collection of art. It was wall-to-wall Others tucked in a backroom, everything from Demons to Dryads all done in marble with an obviously admiring hand. Hilbert distracted himself as they talked, looking over a tiny statue of a Selkie with their cloak around their shoulders, waves crashing around them as they smiled at the viewer.

A feeling of eyes upon him prompted him to put it back quickly, jamming his hands back into his pockets and stepping out of the tiny room with a half-muttered, “Will be outside.” Thankfully Eiffel didn’t make him wait for long, walking briskly with an arm full of bags and a grin.

“Man, I didn’t expect her to be such a huge fan of Others, thats rare nowadays. She gave me her business card, said to come back and chat if I found the time. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” There was a hopeful look in his eyes, like he was desperate for Hilbert to agree and, maybe, even express a desire to go with him next time. Hilbert looked away quickly, nodding just a little and flinching at the radiant look on Eiffel’s face. His hands twitched in his pockets as he clenched his jaw tight to keep the words on his tongue from spilling out into a flow of garbage and useless declarations of his desire to spend more time with Eiffel, choosing to turn back in the direction of home as if he had forgotten he needed to do something. If Eiffel was disappointed he said nothing of it, cheerfully strolling alongside him and occasionally patting the bags on his arm as if to reassure himself that they were still there.

Hilbert stopped in front of his apartment, unable to look Eiffel in the face as he fished out his keys to let himself in. Just before the lock clicked open Eiffel stopped him with a hand on his arm, the touch both chilling and warming him to his bones like stepping out into sunshine on a cold day. “Before I go, I, um, I got you something.” Eiffel held out a box the size of a book with the words “Renee’s Rarities” on the top, the name of the artist’s shop they had visited together, and Hilbert took it with an expression of bemusement, his mind working as he tried to remember the last time someone had given him something.

Inside was the little Selkie statuette, still smiling blithely in it’s lush cloak with waves crashing around it, and hatred welled in him at the sight of it. Unconsciously gripping it tighter in his hands, he considered throwing it on the concrete and letting Eiffel see it shatter, that would finally be enough to get him to leave, wouldn’t it? If he took this thing Eiffel bought him out of love and destroyed it, Eiffel would leave forever and he would be alone again, he could be rid of these feelings and this idiocy and be done with it. But instead he felt his hands hold it closer, felt his expression soften to unspoken gratitude, saw Eiffel’s bright and beautiful grin just before he turned back away to slip into his apartment, clutching the thing to his chest. He hated it. He’d treasure it forever.

He placed the little statue on his bedside table and fell back onto his bed, stealing glances at it until he finally slipped off into sleep. When he woke it was sometime past five p.m. and he felt smothered by the confines of his apartment. Making the decision to flee, he stood and haphazardly straightened his clothes, gathering up his house keys and leaving with no real plan for what he would do. Eiffel wasn’t outside waiting for him for once and he wasn’t entirely sure if he was grateful or disappointed as he walked in the direction of work, making up his mind to try and make more progress tonight. None of the other scientists who worked in the lab with him were there, thankfully, and he felt a tension he didn’t know was there leave him while he slipped on his lab coat and checked on his rats. He had lied to Eiffel, he did like his rats quite a lot and had, in fact, named them. Betelgeuse and Bellatrix were the second set of lab rats he had used for this trial and he knew that it was likely that there would be more after them, but they were sweet and intelligent little things and when he was alone he enjoyed letting them out of their cage to stay in his lab coat’s pockets. But only for a little while at a time, of course, he knew better than to keep them in there the entire time even if he did ‘forget’ to put them back when he went outside for his smoke break.

Smoking while at work was something he tried to avoid for the most part, preferring to spend as much time as he could working without break to make progress as quickly as possible, but it was the claustrophobic feeling that had followed him here that pushed him outside to the cliffs. The pull of the void was less pressing than usual as he sat on the edge and laid back, lighting a slightly battered cigarette and staring at nothing in particular while Betelgeuse and Bellatrix crawled over his chest and dug in his pockets for the treats they knew were hiding there. Lost in thought while listening to the ocean crash far below him, he was startled out of his reverie by tiny paws getting too interested in his cigarette, startling a laugh out of him as he sat up while gently moving the two rats out of the way. “You are not part of nicotine study, Bellatrix, quit acting like it.” He picked them both up and carefully tucked them into his pockets once more, standing slowly to keep from jostling them and snuffing his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe, walking back inside and throwing the butt in the garbage before replacing Betelgeuse and Bellatrix in their cage.  
  
  
  
The rest of the night passed quickly while he compared the latest results from his study to the results from the last, ignoring his body’s weak protests to eat, or drink, or even move as he threw himself into his work. Frustration with himself made him stop sometime after midnight, his mind a jumble of insidious whispers that chorused queries on Eiffel, such as whether he’d be waiting outside for him or if he’d want to spend more time with him, any time with him, he couldn’t be sure that he would but the idea of it was beyond distracting. Maybe Eiffel would want to see his work, maybe they could get coffee after or- he forced himself to stop that line of thinking, standing so abruptly from his desk that his chair fell over behind him, pacing back in forth across the room and reminding himself of his many, many shortcomings. Why such a thing was far and beyond what he deserved, and why even though Eiffel claimed to love him he would never _really_ choose to do so.  
  
He was in the middle of his furious pacing when he noticed a horrible stillness in Bellatrix and Betelgeuse’s cage and knew without looking that neither of them had survived the last trial. Despair warred with anger and frustration at his impotence, his total inability to produce results, and with a grimace he packed up his things and left. Eiffel wasn’t outside, again, leaving him with a conflicted feeling of relief and loneliness long after he stepped into his apartment. There was a process for how he coped with another failure, showering off the smell of disinfectant first and foremost before sitting on the edge of the tub and studying his options. His right thigh was a list of tally marks and sharp-edged numbers done in flesh, each marking a date of a significant failure in his life so he would never be able to forget what he was. His left was less organized, a wall for him to punch and a mess of scars. He chose both. In the middle of carving open his left leg, his mind detached and somewhere far away from this violence he did unto himself as blood steadily dripped onto his much-abused floor mat, he was startled by a banging noise on his front door. His hand slipped, digging the scalpel in too deep too suddenly and leaving him gasping, doubled over and fumbling with the first aid kit placed within reach on the counter.

Blood, blood on his hands, blood on the floor, blood running in rivulets down his legs while he struggled to his feet and desperately tried to hide the evidence, so much blood that he felt dizzy at the lurching movements his body made as he slipped on a shirt and loose black pajama bottoms, the only thing keeping his legs whole a flimsy wrapping of gauze done with an unsteady hand. A cursory check in the mirror showed no blood on his pale face, just a grimace of pain when he limped his way to the door. Beautiful, stupid, wonderful Eiffel stood on the other side, his smile bright and delighted to see him until it suddenly wasn’t, his joy rotting into concern at the paleness of his face and the way he leaned heavily against the door frame, keeping his lower body half-hidden behind the door.

“What do you _want,_ Eiffel.”

Either used to his acidity or too worried to care, Eiffel ignored the annoyed tone in his voice. “Wh-what’s wrong, why are you so pale, are you sick? Let me che-”

Eiffel leaned in as if to touch his cheek and panic flared in his chest, his feet stepping back uncertainty and making him stumble just enough to raise Eiffel’s suspicions more. “You look _awful_ , Alexander, you should be in bed, sleeping.” There was a motion from Eiffel, almost like he intended to push him aside to let himself in, and Hilbert shoved him back and hid his fear with anger.

“Can you not tell when you are not wanted, Eiffel? Have been trying for days to let you down gently but this, this is ridiculous.” He could see the confusion in Eiffel’s eyes, like he didn’t quite understand what he was saying, or maybe he just didn’t want to. Eiffel’s voice was weak when he cut in, looking at him pleadingly.

“But, I-I’m your husband-”

Bile rose in his throat and he hid his shaking hands by gripping the door tighter, glaring at him instead of getting to his knees to beg his forgiveness like his whole body demanded. “Don’t even finish your sentence, could never marry someone like you. You are overbearing, annoying, cloyingly needy _monster._ Leave.”

There was silence, only silence for a long, long moment as neither of them could fathom his cruelty while Hilbert stared at the ground rather than face Eiffel. And then there was a faint sound, just barely audible, and Hilbert looked at him again. He almost broke then and there but Eiffel _needed_ to leave, he deserved someone better than a failure who hurt himself because it was the only thing he was good at, even though the tears silently streaming down Eiffel’s face cut him to his soul. Like a child faced with the loss of everything dear to him, Eiffel cried. Biting hard onto his bottom lip to keep from making any noise while his breath hitched in little sobs, his hands clenched tight at his sides. Hilbert’s throat tightened and he couldn’t bear it any longer, closing the door on him and wishing that he had bled to death on the floor rather than hurt him like that.

Even though he tried his best, no amount of alcohol could drown his feelings, and the next morning came too fast. He knew without looking at his phone that Cutter had emailed him, knew that he wanted to talk, knew that Cutter had found his latest failure. Hilbert limped to the building, his chest aching at the empty space where Eiffel usually waited, and went inside. Cutter was brief.

“Ah, Doctor Hilbert. So good to see you. I’ll keep this meeting short, since I know you’re an intelligent- well, a _smart_ man. This is the twentieth failure, isn’t it?” At Hilbert’s resigned nod he continued, studying his nails with a bored expression. He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “What a shame. You’ve been a great employee, doctor, but we can’t keep funding someone who _fails_ to provide results, now can we?”

“.... No, Mr. Cutter.”

“That’s right. I’m very sorry, Alexander, but we have to terminate your contract with us. Have a nice day.”

His mind wrapped in thick fog, Hilbert found himself opening doors and walking through corridors without directing commands to his limbs to do so. As if the part of him that made him a conscious autonomous being had shut off, he was now a passive observer in a vessel he had no control over. A passenger on a speeding train with an unknown destination.

As the fog became too heavy to keep his head above the surface, he phased out.

He came to to wind pushing against him hard enough to nearly topple him over. Stumbling, he managed to catch himself as he slowly took in his surroundings. In front of him, the vast expanse of the ocean stretched out for an eternity. The smell of the briny water kicked up with the wind, misting through the air, giving him a sense of longing for something, no, _someone._

After a moment, he realized he’s on the edge of the cliffs outside the Goddard campus. Behind a filter, a sepia-toned murk blanketing his mind, he felt a massive pang of nostalgia. He looked at the dirt below him, and reminisced on the hundreds of times he’d sat in this exact spot. This may be the last time he did.

He looked back up at the sea, the evening sun glimmering gold on the waves in the distance. An image of Eiffel, smile as bright as the sun beyond the horizon and just as warm, assaulted Hilbert’s mind and his heart dropped further into his stomach. He broke that boy’s heart. He drove him away.

The wind wisped at his back, gently persuading him forward. He sighed. There’s nothing left for him here.

He took a cautious step forward, and as many times as he’s practiced this moment in his head, nothing could prepare him for the sheer anticipatory terror that threatened to overcome his rational mind. Primal instinct to survive, that’s what that must be. He knew there’s no fighting instinct if he thought too much on it, so he didn’t think. He let his mind go wherever else it pleased. His thoughts took him to Eiffel once more, to the first time they met. To the butterflies he felt around him, to the longing to be with him, even though he _knew_ Eiffel deserved much better. The feeling of the few brief hugs Eiffel had given him, before. . . Before he crushed Eiffel’s heart. He closed his eyes, and without a second thought, jumped.

At first, the world seemed to still, for a small infinity he hung suspended in the air, frozen in spacetime and he thought _maybe this is when the universe ends._ But then, all too suddenly wind started rushing and his stomach dropped like he’s on a rollercoaster decline. The sound of the wind howled in his ears as his heart started beating a million miles a minute, and he _knew_ if he opened his eyes he’d tense up and make the fall worse, so he kept them closed and tried to think of anything but his doom hurling closer and closer. Thousands of images flashed behind his eyes all at once like a movie reel going in fast forward. His childhood, his parents, his siblings, the factory explosion, his cats, the tree outside his window in the orphanage, his sister’s ashes, the boat-ride across the atlantic and all the anxiety that followed, his ambition and alcohol and fear and love and successes and failures and everything and nothing all at once. He thought of Eiffel. Like a car smashing into a wall— _try not to think of sudden impacts_ —he’s smacked in the face with a feeling that overcame anything else: Regret. He regretted _everything_ in his life he gave up on, but more than anything, he regretted giving up on Eiffel. There’s an infinite amount of things he could have said, decisions he could of made, and he chose the worst of them. He needed to make things right. He couldn’t die yet! He needed to apologize to Eiffel! He needed to tell Eiffel he was just afraid, but he wasn’t afraid anymore he was ready now he’s ready he’s _not_ ready to die he needs to tell Eiffel he-

Lightning struck every one of his nerves all at once in an instance. His entire body was nothing but white-hot burning, then just as fast as the light came, everything crumbled into darkness.

 

 

He’s underwater. The cool serenity of the sea blanketed him in a calm he hadn’t felt in years. Bubbles drifted from his mouth as he looked up to see the sun beams shimmer through the water, making a mosaic painting of light and color on the canvas of the ocean surface above. Something warm and soft brushed his hand, and he lowered his gaze to see a seal brushing against him. He smiled, and pet the seal as it happily twisted and nudged his side.

By his side, the seal stayed, a sole companion in the otherwise empty expanse around him. This must be death, he decided, as he watched seaweed dance and tumble with the current, idly petting his seal friend as he did. Death really wasn’t all that bad.

The seal nudged his hand up, nosing and nuzzling it’s grey cheek against it. Hilbert laughed, bubbles bursting from his mouth as he pet the seal’s snout. The distance he can see, which was already not very far to begin with, slowly began to close in. He’s okay with this. If his world was destined to finally succumb to darkness, then so be it. This  _was_ death, after all. And he’s just happy he had the chance to enjoy this short little heaven with his new seal friend.

As he watched the world grow darker and darker around, he pet the seal’s head, running his hand in small strokes over the smooth roundness. Until finally, he couldn’t see anything at all, and the only thing keeping him grounded in this little underwater world, was the feeling of the seal under his hand.

It’s dark for a very long time, but the seal remained loyally by his side. As Hilbert accepted this new quiet darkness, however, he saw something in the far distance. A single point of white. As the point of light began to grow, he anxiously pet the seal, nervous about what would come next in his afterlife. The seal nudged back, rubbing against his hand. Rapidly, the light grew and grew until the blackness he’d already grown so used to disappeared completely. He squinted, the light much too bright, borderline painful as it bored into his aching skull. He turned to look to his seal friend, as if to ask if it, too, was really seeing this, but when he faced it, he’s greeted not with a grey seal, but _Eiffel_ of all people. He looked down, his hand was no longer running over the smooth seal skin, and was instead being held by Eiffel’s own hand. When he looked back at Eiffel’s face, he saw that Eiffel was crying. Grinning from ear to ear, but glistening tears streaming down his face. It was the most heartbreaking thing Hilbert’s ever seen. With his other hand--the one not holding Eiffel’s--he tried to reach up to wipe his tears away, but found his arm stuck in place, unable to move.

He wanted more than anything to apologize to Eiffel, to tell him he’s perfect and wonderful and deserved nothing Hilbert put him through. When he tried to speak, however, he could hardly move his mouth let alone sound out words.

Eiffel, beautiful sweet Eiffel, silent tears still streaming down his face, very gently squeezed Hilbert’s hand. His voice was wet and wobbly, but his smile so wide when he whispered, _“It’s okay, it’s alright. Don’t try to talk.”_ Eiffel’s voice was just as perfect as he remembered, and it’s the last thing he heard before slipping his eyes closed, entering a different kind of darkness than the one before. A warmer, softer one.

  
A rhythmically even beeping irritated Hilbert out of his slumber, his eyes drifting open just enough to catch a glimpse of indistinguishable blurry white shapes above. He felt. . . Frankly, he felt disattached from his body. Which was a very concerning feeling. He commanded his leg to lift, and lift it did not. He commanded his arm to bend, and bend, it did not. Hilbert could feel anxiety edging in from the sides as he started to panic. The high pitched metronomic beeping that woke him began to speed up, the spaces in between beeps growing shorter and shorter. Something warm touched his face, and he focused on the source of it, a hand. Eiffel’s hand, he realized, cupping his cheek. Like flipping a switch, Hilbert immediately broke out of his panic at the angelic sight of him, soft and glowing in the evening light.

Eiffel had a soft smile spread across his face, his eyelids low and his head tilted slightly to the side. He gazed at Hilbert with a look of total adoration, and Hilbert had never felt so loved. He smiled back.

“Hey,” Eiffel said, gently brushing his thumb over Hilbert’s cheek, “how’re you feeling?”

Desperate to make things right, Hilbert disregarded Eiffel’s concern for himself. He found his voice was dry and cracked when he opened his mouth to speak, but managed to croak out, “I’m sorry.”

Eiffel was quiet, eyes widening in surprise. He seemed speechless, mouth gaping but no sound coming out. Eiffel removed his hand from Hilbert’s cheek, placing it in his lap instead. Unable to meet Eiffel’s silent gaze any longer, Hilbert looked up instead, at the tiled white hospital ceiling. Sunbeams touched the white tiles in even lines, and where the sun shone, dust danced, sparkling like little stars above Hilbert’s head. Even with uncertainty sitting beside him, even with the circumstances of Hilbert’s life in this very moment, he felt a sudden inexplicable sense of calm. Maybe it was the drugs steadily dripping into his veins, or maybe, it was the absolute solid belief inside him, that everything will be okay.

He wanted to hold Eiffel’s hand again. He wanted to touch his cheek and stroke his hair and show him all the love he’d been afraid to let anyone see until then. But, still seemingly unable to move his body, he settled for looking at him once more instead.

Eiffel had tears running down his cheeks again, and when Hilbert tilted his head enough to see his face, Eiffel sniffed, rubbing his cheek dry with the back of his hand. He smiled, and quietly said, “It’s okay.”

At those two, simple words, Hilbert, though more content he’d ever been in his whole life, found his cheek dampening with tears as well. “I’m so, _so_ sor-”  
  
“No! No its,” Eiffel laughed, wiping at his face with his palm, “It’s alright. Really. I- You were in a bad place, and I was being annoying-”  
  
Hilbert interrupted him, his serious tone making up for the lack in volume, “You were _not_ being annoying, Eiffel. Never. I was a fool. I loved your attention, I loved spending time with you, I- I love _you,_ Eiffel. And I was not prepared to show you. I was- I thought- I _am_ not good enough for you.” Eiffel opened his mouth, as if to speak against him, but Hilbert continued, “All I can do, is hope you are willing to give me another chance.” Hilbert took a shuddering breath, before looking Eiffel dead in the eye, “Eiffel, if you will have me, will you take me back as your husband?”

Eiffel’s jaw clenched, and even more tears sprung up in his already red eyes. He nodded, and like the words had to fight their way out, choked out a small, “I do.”

Hilbert smiled, a small, shy smile, that reminded Eiffel of around the time they first met. Tentatively leaning forward in his chair, Eiffel moved so he was close enough to brush his lips against Hilbert’s, and whispered, “Ca- can I?” His breath ghosted over Hilbert’s lips, leaving tingling trails of sparks across the skin, and Hilbert was never more sure of anything when he answered.

“Idiot, of course you can kiss m-”

Eiffel cut him off by gently pressing their lips together, so agonizingly careful, as if kissing any more enthusiastically would damage Hilbert’s already severely injured body even further. If Hilbert could move his arms, he would have grabbed Eiffel by the back of the head and taken the reigns himself. The kiss was sweet and unfortunately rather short as Eiffel pulled away, a dopey smile and a beet red blush spread across his face. Hilbert was certain he looked just as dazed and happy.

Suddenly, Hilbert found himself utterly exhausted. His eyes drooped shut a number of times, and each time he had to pry them open with a surprising amount of force.

Chuckling, Eiffel leaned over to plant a small kiss on his cheek. “You rest, my love. You’re going to need it, the doctor says you have a looooot of physical therapy ahead of you.”

With warm, hopeful thoughts of his and Eiffel’s long future together on his mind, Hilbert allowed himself to fall into a comfortable sleep.

 


End file.
